It's Academic
by Jalen Strix
Summary: A collection of stories set in some version of academia that involves Sarah and Jareth. Humor most likely making a common appearance as a genre, with potential adult-like overtones as the fancy strikes.
1. Small Favors

**Small Favors**

_Jareth makes Sarah an offer as the end of the fall semester looms near. Written for the labyfic livejournal challenge theme of "Christmas" with a bonus item of an advent calendar._

* * *

Sarah glanced morosely at the calendar pinned to the wall next to her desk. It was the advent calendar that Toby always sent her, which she normally adored. But this one was marred with sticky notes saying things like "course assessment report due", "letters of recommendation must be submitted by now!" and "final grades due - no exceptions".

She had intended it to be motivating. And it was. It was also decidedly ruinous to her general mood this month.

She dropped her head onto her desk and her hand brushed the stacks of papers next to her. They could charitably be called _towering_ and were perhaps more accurately described as _of despair-inducing height_. She lifted her head slightly to survey them, shaking it in disbelief. "Why did I think asking two hundred and fifty psychology undergraduates to write a scientific review paper was a good idea?" Her head slumped back down. "Especially with final grades due three days afterwards."

A familiar resonant voice slid sinuously across her skin. "Unyielding optimism. One of your finer qualities."

She raised her head, blinking one eye open to see Jareth sitting in the chair across from her. "Nice to see you, your majesty." Her gaze slowly traveled down the length of his legs. "Excellent boots. Come to taunt me in my grading misery?"

His smile glittered with hidden amusement. "Would I do that?"

"In a firey heartbeat, if it suited you," she replied, shutting her eyes again. "Is this a normal pastime of well-shod, immensely powerful faerie kings?"

"Just the ones you humiliated when you were fifteen. Fortunately, we're a rare breed."

"Thank goodness for small favors," she mumbled into the desk. After a few more moments, she opened her eyes halfway to squint at the looming paper stacks."Care to help me with these? It'd make a fine Christmas present from erstwhile villain to erstwhile heroine."

He arched an eyebrow. "What, I should just toss a few crystals at these rather..._prodigious..._stacks and they'll magically acquire critical comments and numerical assessments?"

Both of her eyes shot open. "Can you do that?"

Multiple crystals materialized, playing gracefully through his fingers. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered them. After several moments, the crystals collapsed abruptly in a spray of glitter. "Probably not. Too much fine detail involved - it would take less time to grade them by hand than it would to work out the spell mechanics."

Sarah dropped her head back to the desk.

"That doesn't mean I can't help."

She lifted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you have a grading rubric?" With a flourish of his hand, an elegant fountain pen appeared. "I have the requisite red pen."

She sat up and blinked slowly at him. "You're actually offering to help me grade. By hand."

His smile was filled with wicked intimation. "I'm skilled with my hands."

Her chest tightened as her cheeks flooded with heat. "_Grading_ by hand. Of these papers." She swallowed, considering her current - admittedly herculean - task. "Not that I'm not grateful for the offer, but don't you have better things to do?"

"Better than gaining leverage on my favorite erstwhile heroine? Surely not."

"Aha." She took a slow breath. "And what's the price for this regal altruism?"

He stretched back into the chair, crossing his legs. "Christmas Day spent Underground."

She shook her head slowly and tried very carefully to keep her gaze on his face. "Impossible. My family would miss me."

He shrugged dismissively. "The goblins miss you. _I_ miss you. You haven't visited in far too long. Besides," he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the desktop as he twirled the fountain pen from one hand to the other, "who's here right now offering to accompany you on your grading frenzy? Consider carefully."

"Subtle, your majesty." Her lips twitched in a small smile.

"Targeted, dear professor. So," he brandished the pen, "is it a deal?"

"I don't know how I'm going to explain missing Christmas."

"Unexpected work travel." Smug satisfaction curled from him. "It even has the benefit of being somewhat true as it's unexpected travel due to work I'll do for you now."

She looked at him for a long moment before nodding and pushing a stack of papers at him. "Alright. Here, you start with these." She waved a finger to his left. "The rubric's over on the whiteboard."

He glanced at the board before inclining his head, his smile flashing wide. "At your service, my lady."

She snorted. "Let's just see how jolly you are after looking at some of these, your majesty. And don't say I didn't warn you."

"Never would I ever."

She rolled her eyes and picked up the top paper from one of her stacks.

Several minutes passed in silence.

He suddenly tossed his paper down in disgust. "Is this even English?"

She smirked. "Told you." She glanced at the name. "And that's probably one of the more coherent ones."

He crossed his arms. "Grading will be simple then. I'll make you a rubber stamp that says 'Incomprehensible Trash' and you can fail them all. We'll be finished in no time."

"Now, now, your majesty...that's not very constructive, is it? How will they learn if there are no comments as to what's wrong?"

The full weight of his gaze fell on her, chilly with disbelief. "Your generosity has turned you cruel."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Learned from the best. Now back to work, your majesty. Only two hundred forty eight more after this."


	2. Prospects

**Prospects**

_Professor Sarah Williams encounters an unexpected potential protege._

* * *

The chair of the English department pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes briefly. "You can't keep turning your nose up at prospective graduate students, Sarah. I don't care how productive your research program is. Your next merit review won't fly without at least some graduate mentoring."

Sarah's jaw clenched. This was an old argument. "I do digital humanities. None of the prospectives for the department have the computational background I need."

He raised his eyebrows imploringly. "Have you even looked at this year's prospectives?"

She stared flatly back.

He sighed. "Well, you better start."

* * *

_Abysmal. Simply abysmal. _Sarah snorted derisively as she sifted through the GRE scores of the applicant pool.

She clicked to the next candidate. _Well, helloooooo there. _Perfect scores on the quantitative and writing sections.

"And why ever would you want to come here, Mr. Jay Aran?" she murmured, skimming the statement of purpose. _Digital humanities, and you want to work with little old me. Well, well, well._

He had background in both literature and computer science, and the letters of recommendation looked solid enough - a computational linguist, a stylometrist, and a philosopher of language.

"Time to bring you in for a little interview, my sweet." Her smile was rapacious as she emailed her department chair.

* * *

"And here's Professor Williams's office, Jay - go on in. She's expecting you."

Sarah glanced up as a tall, slender boy entered, closing the door neatly behind him. He sat down in the chair on the other side of her desk, crossing his legs with casual grace. The afternoon sunlight did wonders for him, highlighting his cornsilk hair, the carved patrician features, the exquisitely pale skin, and the mismatched eyes gleaming like wicked stars.

Sarah stared for several very long moments.

He stared back, eventually arching one perfect golden eyebrow.

She broke first. "What are you doing here?"

"Being interviewed by you, as I understood it." His voice was just as she remembered, resonant and sliding across her skin like warm honey. But younger. Unmistakably younger.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. _Nope, still here. Alrighty then. _"Jareth-"

"Jay at the moment," he interjected.

She closed her eyes briefly. "Jay, then. Why do you look twenty three?"

A faint grimace flickered. "A little tussle with the Fates."

She digested that for a minute. "Is it permanent?"

"Hopefully not." He inspected his fingernails. "Can't tell you the rules, of course, or it will be."

She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Let me guess - this whole PhD student thing is part of it. You need me to take you on as my digital humanities apprentice for some ungodly reason only the Fates understand." She slowly shook her head. "Is this a lesson in humility by chance? For both of us?"

He shrugged, looping his hand absently as if it held a crystal. "The Fates have a very precise sense of justice. Meanwhile, I have the skills you need and you have a department chair breathing down your neck. I say we make a deal."

"You have the skills, do you? You just made that paper trail up."

"Did I now? Try me."

Her nostrils flared as she considered for a minute. "What classifier would you use to identify the author of a text, given a set of comparison texts?"

He didn't miss a beat. "How many samples of each potential author do I have and how large are they?"

"Let's say ten each, consisting of a thousand words."

"The SMLR."

"Why not SVM?"

"SMLR is faster."

"Hmmph. What features would you use?"

"Word, syntactic, and document-level, with a log likelihood transform to accentuate the useful ones for each author."

She blinked at him.

He smiled back.

"Fine. But I'm the advisor and you do what I say."

"As you wish."

"There'll be coursework, you know. Both literary and computational."

"Of course."

"You'll also have to TA for your keep during the year. Freshman composition is a right bitch."

"I'm sure."

"It's a five year program."

"Five? Your graduate catalog claims six to seven for this department."

"I'll get you out in five. This is interdisciplinary work, and we go the multiple paper route, rather than the book."

"Sounds delightful."

She took a deep breath. "Alright, I'll let the chair know I'm taking you on."

He leaned back in his chair, arching to show off a very toned upper torso.

Her eyes wandered along said torso before she could snap them back to his face. "There will be no professor-student romance between us. None. Nada. Zip."

He blinked slowly. "Such a pity."

"If it happens, someone else needs to become your advisor or I'll lose my job. There's no one else who could handle what you need, so I repeat: No romantic hijinks will ensue." She paused. "Besides, at your current age, I'm far too old for you."

"Tsk, a ten year gap is nothing. Especially for academics."

"You're not an academic yet. And remember the first reason."

"Of course. No one else can give me what I _need_." The double entendre flowed like spiced wine, heating the air between them.

She shook herself and leveled her best disapproving stare at him. "Unweave that tone from our interactions or this apprenticeship is over before it's begun."

His smile was calculating even as his eyes lit with glee. "But once you accept me as your student, I'll have rights as well."

She smiled back, flashing her teeth. "As will I. Don't make me hit you with a sexual harassment complaint. Our equity office is so very...protective of its female faculty."

He blinked slowly. "Devious."

"Academic bureaucracy is a byzantine behemoth. You have no idea."

"You'll have to teach me, then."

"That I will."


	3. Speak -- Friend -- and Enter

**Speak - Friend - and Enter**

_Doctoral candidate Sarah Williams ponders a particularly recalcitrant problem in her thesis. Note: This storylet includes gratuitous LotR, math, and cognitive science references. Also, there's a rather fluffier tone than I usually play with._

* * *

Damn it. That integral just wasn't budging. Instead, it sat there blithely, refusing to be transformed into something nicely solvable.

Goddamned binomial distributions.

I stared blearily at the page, willing insight to make an appearance.

Insight, however, clearly had better things to do.

The time had officially come to try alternate methods. I closed my eyes, letting my mind sink into meditational oblivion. I only had a single night left before my doctoral thesis revision was due and time had officially run out to Find An Answer That Would Satisfy The Committee. If I didn't come up with something, they would fail me in two weeks' time at the oral defense. Regretfully or gleefully they would fail me, depending on inclination, but fail me they most certainly would.

I ground my teeth, then caught myself.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax. Visualize. Do not grind teeth.

_Ah, there we go._

I stood in the center of a bare white room, staring at a structure set in what looked to be the side of a mountain. It wasn't a door, per se, but more a starlit sketch of a door laid delicately upon the rock face, swirling lines and curling words written in Elvish script.

I blinked slowly. "Really, brain? My metaphorical representation of the problem looks like the entrance to Moria? _Prefrontal cortex and occipital lobe, your ways are mysterious_." I shook my head, muttering, "There just better not be a frickin' Balrog down there..."

"Clearly you've been reading too much Lord of the Rings lately." The resonant voice thrummed next to me, rippling over my skin as a gorgeous pair of sculpted boots hit my lower peripheral vision.

I didn't bother to look over. "And subconsciously reminiscing too much about my teenage adventures if I conjured up your well-heeled image, your highness. Speaking of: John Fluevog boots?"

"Tsk, I came because you needed me. You have a puzzle. I'm rather skilled at them." His voice slid through me, warm and sensuous. "Also, yes, Fluevog. Well-spotted."

I nodded, trying to shrug off the effects of his voice and focus on the door. "They suit you. But meanwhile, this isn't a labyrinth."

"Isn't it? Perhaps you just need someone to show you how to navigate it."

He had a point. And what did I have to lose? I nodded. "_Thy ways are mysterious, O cortex. Though thy fashion sense is impeccable._"

"What?"

"That was merely a paean to my brain's visualization choices, your majesty. Pay it no mind. So...how can you help?"

His smile stretched wide, his winter-bright eyes alight with puzzle-solving pleasure. "Judging by this door, the trick is deciphering the script around it. Then, you simply follow the directions."

I squinted at the sigils. "They're not Quenya. Or Valarin or Sindarin or Telerin. Or anything else I recognize in Tengwar."

"Of course not. If they were, you'd know what to do already, given your surprisingly prodigious affinity for Tolkien languages. And you clearly don't."

"Hmmmph." I crossed my arms. "Point. So, what _are_ they?"

"Well, for that," he drummed his fingers against his arm thoughtfully, "you'll probably need to tell me more about this problem of yours."

I sucked in a breath. "Well, it's like this..."

* * *

Our conversation was interesting, to say the least. And good practice for my oral defense. Jareth demanded to know the motivation for _everything_, from the general cognitive science theory to the choice of cognitive model type to the specific model I created with that blasted binomial in the integral.

As we talked, I caught the Tengwar letters rearranging themselves, sliding and shuffling with a decided twinkle. At last, when I had gotten to mathematical modeling techniques and common best practices, the letters clicked into place with a shimmering blue perfection. They formed English words, spelled phonetically. I tilted my head, sounding the words out to myself. _Speek kahn-juh-git prai-er..._

"Hot _damn_," I whispered. "_Speak conjugate prior, and enter._"

Jareth made a rather flamboyant bow at me, thoroughly pleased with himself.

I was barely paying attention. "Of course...the Beta distribution is the conjugate prior for the binomial distribution." I rubbed my hands together gleefully. "Oh yes! Yes, yes, _yes_." I turned and planted a joyful kiss smack dab on Jareth's lips. "Thank you, your majesty. You're a lifesaver."

And then I strode through the open door, humming to myself.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, still humming, I noticed a pair of perfectly sculpted boots splayed lazily across the bean bag in my home office.

I blinked hard, feeling some of my elation dribble out. "You're...still here."

Jareth flashed me a self-satisfied smile. "What, isn't a lifesaver welcome?"

Confused panic began to buzz through me. "I...well, _this _is unexpected. I'm taking it you're not just an appropriate mental representation, then?"

His face glowed with amusement. "What do you think?"

I shook my head. I had to head this off now - there was a deadline looming. "I've got a thesis revision to complete and submit, so perhaps we can continue this later?"

"Only if I get an official acknowledgement." He tilted his head rakishly. "And another kiss of gratitude wouldn't go amiss."

I stared at him for a moment, processing that. Well, he _did _just save my academic cookies in a pretty major way.

I got up and pecked him on the cheek. "_Special thanks to Jareth, King of the Goblins, Tricksy Faerie Lord and Solver of Recalcitrant Mathematical Puzzles?_"

"That will do." His smile was positively mischievous. "And I'll see you in two weeks."

"What?"

"At your defense. I believe it's open to the public, is it not?"

I blinked at him. "Why do you want to come to my defense?"

"To share in the intellectual conquest, of course. And to properly intimidate your committee if they even consider failing you."

I huffed a small laugh. "You're a rather odd one to play knight in shining armor."

His eyes twinkled. "Shows what you know."

"Clearly." I smiled as I sat down and pulled out my laptop. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a conjugate prior to employ and a thesis committee to dazzle."

He flourished his hand. "Dazzle away, fair maiden."

"Thank you, noble king-knight." I began to type, then paused. "I don't suppose you happen to make a good espresso shot, do you? I have a machine in the kitchen."

"Let's not get silly now."

I shrugged. "A girl can dream."

"So can a king." Chords of suggestion and promise harmonized in his voice.

I looked up at him, leveling my best stern librarian stare. "Thesis submission first."

"Agreed. But after that."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the integral. "After."


	4. Choose Your Own Adventure

_Author's note: This comes direct from the labyfic livejournal community, where the challenge for May 2015 was this: "The defences of the Goblin City prove to be positively insurmountable, and Sarah and the gang realise they have to find another way in (i.e. they can't just stroll in through the front gate after taking out a rather ineffective robot). How do they get inside? There are lots of possibilities here - a desperate magic spell, a forgotten secret passage or a rancid sewer. You could even take this to an extreme and explore an AU scenario where Sarah never made it to the castle at all, hiding out in the Labyrinth after realising she has lost and __formulating a plan to get her brother back while evading Jareth."_

_So, after seeing the prompt, I couldn't resist going uber-meta with this. Apologies to non-meta fans._

* * *

**Choose Your Own Adventure**

_Sarah gets feedback on her story in a fiction writing class._

* * *

_"And so the party trudged forward, slipping past the surprisingly ineffective robot. The goblin city seemed terribly quiet-"_

"Wait, wait. I'm sorry, Sarah, I know this is a tale of high adventure and all, but I just can't see it. I think you've asked the reader to suspend belief a little too much here."

Sarah glared at Amelia, a fellow student in her fiction writing class. "What's wrong exactly?"

"Well, don't you think it's a little too convenient about that robot? All huff and puff, but no blowing the adventuring party down?"

"Yeah," piped up Ben, another student. "It's like a sham defense. Ooh! Maybe that's the point? Jarah and her merry troop are walking into a big ol' trap?"

"_Jarah and her merry troop,_" snorted Amelia. "You really need to look up Mary Sues in fiction, Sarah. At least change more than one letter for the protagonist's name."

Sarah blushed furiously.

Ben rose to Sarah's defense. "So what about the main character's name? The rest are _very _imaginative: Bloggle the dwarf, Mudo the monster, Lord Ninymus with his faithful steed Sambrocius. C'mon - those are linguistic gold. And don't forget the enigmatic semi-love interest slash antagonist Sareth."

Sarah's cheeks flamed even further.

"Mmhmm, yeah," offered another student named Cameron. "I'm definitely a fan of Sareth. Lots of delicious ambiguity."

Sarah choked hard before she managed words. "What do you all suggest about the ineffective robot?"

Amelia shrugged. "I say drop it, unless it really _is_ a sham defense. Is it?"

"Not at the moment," Sarah ground out.

"Well then," said Amelia, "let's assume the goblins aren't completely inept at defending their city and our merry troop can't just stroll in through the front gate."

Sarah took a slow breath, trying to unclench her jaw. "Alright - how does the merry troop get in then?"

Ben drummed his fingers against the table. "What about some kind of super-powerful magic spell that blows the walls to smithereens?"

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "Not very subtle."

"Eh, it's a thing of desperation," replied Ben. "The merry troop's in a hurry, after all."

Another student named David shook his head. "Where did Jarah learn a magic spell so fast? None of her companions is a magic-user...well, Mudo sort of is, with his rock-calling, but that's definitely natural magic for him, rather than something teachable."

"Mmm," agreed Ben. "Maybe Mudo could call the rocks to avalanche the city walls."

Sarah scrunched her nose. "I was going to have him do that once the troop was already inside the city gates, to try to clear the way to the castle. Also as a sort of surprise tactical capability, so the goblins scatter temporarily."

"So we're back to trying to find magical ability for Jarah," said Cameron, tapping her fingers against her face. "Maybe she gets magic crystal powers since she ate that nectarine from Sareth? He infused some of his magic in it and she ingested it, so she gets some transitory magical ability derived from his."

Amelia raised another eyebrow. "And she just happens to realize this convenient fact and then build said ability to devastating potency between the time when she escapes the junk heap and when they reach the castle walls?"

"_I didn't know you could pack that much sarcasm into a rhetorical question_," Cameron stage-whispered to Ben.

Amelia smiled sharply at them both. "We aim to please."

David rolled his eyes at their sniping. "What if we scrap the junk heap sequence and have her break out of the ballroom illusion a different way that yoinks some of Sareth's power?"

Cameron shook her head. "Nah, I like the almost-kiss and the clock symbolism. That whole scene has beaucoup sexy psychological undertones. I don't think you should mess with it. What if Jarah and the troop look for an indirect route in instead, like a forgotten secret passage."

"Where would they find it?" asked David. "Maybe on that castle wall that had the trap door sliding out to the Bog? Bloggle could know about it. And they were right there earlier, before that whole kiss-of-gratitude incident."

Cameron pursed her lips. "Mmm, maybe something less Bog-affiliated." She got a rather wicked gleam in her eye. "I'm thinking a secret passage from Sareth's private chambers, where he can sneak out to the forest when he needs a break from being a terrifyingly sexy Faerie monarch."

Amelia stage-whispered to Ben, "_Someone has a thing for the Magnificent Bastard trope._"

"And a damned fine character trope it is," replied Cameron, unfazed. "Anyway, let's say Jarah and company come across this super-secret passage to Sareth's rooms somehow, and then Jarah sneaks in and..." She trailed off, a half-smile slipping out.

"And _what_?" said Sarah.

"Let me fill in," said Amelia, rolling her eyes and sighing. "And Jarah and Sareth have some sexy times, which Jarah uses to convince Sareth to let her brother go."

Sarah looked at Cameron. Cameron smiled more broadly and lifted her eyebrows.

"_No_," said Sarah. "No, no, no, with a side of _hell no_."

"Why not?" asked Cameron.

"Jarah's _fifteen_, Cameron."

"And _sans _courtesan training," added Amelia. "She doesn't know squat about seduction."

Cameron shrugged. "So make her older."

"That's problematic," said David. "This is clearly a coming-of-age story, and Jarah needs to be immature enough to get the whole story rolling."

Cameron wrinkled her nose at David. "Spoilsport."

"Look," said Sarah, "there are going to be _plenty_ of ambiguous romantic gestures in the final confrontation. Trust me, Cameron."

Cameron sighed melodramatically. "Fine. Other ideas for entry into the castle, then?"

"Well," said David, "we could go back to the secret entrance idea, but...something less romantic-overtone-inclined. Say there's a drainage system connected from the castle to the Bog."

Sarah blinked slowly. "What _kind_ of drainage system?"

David tapped his fingers against his chin. "Sewer most likely. That would explain part of the Bog's smell, too."

"Ew," said Cameron.

David shrugged. "Everybody poops. Even antagonist minions. And you know a fastidious monarch like Sareth isn't going to let that shit sit around inside the castle."

"Literally," said Ben, stifling a grin.

"Right," said David, grinning back. "So there's a sewer system that hooks directly from the castle to the Bog, and Jarah and crew find this out from Lord Ninymus somehow before the merry troop exits the Bog."

"And for extra comedic value," said Ben, "it can be a rancid horror that Ninymus can't smell, so once Jarah explains her plight to the noble knight, he suggests that as an entry point to the castle."

Cameron shivered and scrunched her nose. "So Jarah's going to crawl through a rancid goblin sewer? I repeat - and this is truly heartfelt now - _ewwwww._"

"Also, major problem," said Amelia. "How does she get clean afterwards? I don't remember there being biohazard suits lying around. They'd literally smell her coming from a mile away."

David's forehead wrinkled for a moment. "Convenient magic spell of some sort?"

"_Weak_," said Amelia, under her breath.

Cameron cast her an exasperated look. "And I suppose you have a better idea, Ms. Critical-Pants?"

"Maybe I do," replied Amelia innocently. Her fingers tapped slowly against each other. "What if we reshape the plotline more drastically? Jarah's not just doing what Sareth says and running the Labyrinth. No, this is a girl who's _using_ the Labyrinth, a girl who's hiding out and developing a strategic plan to extract her brother. She's read Machiavelli and she's read _The Art of War_, and Sareth will never even know what hit him."

They all stared at Amelia for a long moment.

"You might want to add an evil cackle after that," suggested Cameron.

Amelia smiled.

"An evil grin works, too," said Ben.

"Anyway," interrupted Sarah, "that whole thing you just said is...it's...well, it's just _not_ going to happen. Jarah's _fifteen_, and a girl who's read Machiavelli and _The Art of War_ wouldn't have wished her baby brother away in a fit of self-centered teenage angst in the first place."

Amelia waggled her eyebrows. "Unless that's part of her devious plot to entrap Sareth and conquer his kingdom."

David shook his head. "That nixes this as a coming-of-age story again if she's already devious enough to concoct a plan like that."

"Eh," said Amelia, "I like my protagonists as Chess Master types."

"Sure," said David, "and Cameron likes her sexy times with Magnificent Bastards, but we can't always get what we want, can we?"

Amelia raised her hands in defeat. "Fine, fine..."

"Wait, wait," Sarah shook her head, trying to dislodge the latest narrative amalgam, "let's just circle back to the obvious. Ben, you suggested the robot as a sham defense, right? What if we go with that? The robot is meant to look all impressive and insurmountable, but actually it's a big poof. Fine. The _real _defenses lie inside the city."

"Where the goblins lure their attackers in and then strike with devastating force," added Amelia. "Because the meat of attackers makes a fine stew."

"Yuck," said David.

Amelia's lips twitched. "This from the man who suggested the rancid sewer entrance?"

David shrugged.

"Besides," said Ben, "they're goblins. Very practical. Why waste time hunting when the meat comes to you?"

"Which needs to be moot for this storyline if Jarah's ever going to make it to the final showdown with Sareth," said Cameron, "which I, for one, vigorously support."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "We _know_."

"It doesn't have to be entirely moot either," continued Ben. "Jarah's got companions. One or more of them could make a noble self-sacrifice so that Jarah can make it to the castle."

"And end up as goblin meat?" Sarah's eyebrows were trying to leap off her face. "Nope, I'm calling authorial veto on that. This is a happy PG-ish tale, and there will be no death of trusty sidekicks."

"Whatever," said Amelia, as she mouthed _boring_ to Ben.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "I'll sketch some properly horrifying details about previous adventuring parties and their grisly fates. Possibly from inside a dungeon. Sufficient?"

Amelia smiled. "Potentially."

"So then," continued Sarah, "where were we? Oh yes: _And so the party trudged forward, slipping past the surprisingly ineffective robot. The goblin city seemed terribly quiet..._and now, let's bring in the sham defense. Let's see...how about something like this? _\- but then, before the adventurers could blink, the goblin forces had closed around them like a well-oiled vise. The sudden lack of options was painfully obvious._" Sarah paused. "Well?"

The group was silent for a long moment.

"Nice simile," commented Amelia.

Sarah's mouth nearly dropped open in shock at Amelia's approval. "Excellent. I'll rework the sequence up until the Jarah-Sareth showdown for next time."

Cameron rubbed her hands together. "And then we get some quality Sareth time. Can't wait."

Sarah laid her head in her hands, massaging her forehead. "Me either."


	5. Tithe

**Tithe**

_Jareth informs Sarah of a particular arrangement, and the involvement of three little words._

* * *

"A carnival? A required extramural trip to a _carnival_?" Disbelief spiked through Sarah's voice. "And how exactly do we make that pertinent to an undergraduate honors seminar focused on improvisational fiction?"

Jareth arched a golden eyebrow, unperturbed. "You really ought to glance at tvtrope's entry on carnivals sometime. From Genius Loci to Amusement Park of Doom to Crappy Carnivals, the narrative inspirations are endless. A perfect applied exercise for the class."

Sarah arched an eyebrow back. "I can't believe you just uttered the phrase 'Crappy Carnivals'."

"Tvtropes, love." He flashed a smile full of silky promise at her. "Worth your time, I promise you."

"Hmmmph." She crossed her arms, firmly ignoring his smile and the pleasant shiver it sent along her spine. "I say no. It's not on the syllabus. The students would pitch a fit at an extra assignment this late in the semester - especially one they have to do outside class - and you know it."

He shrugged. "If you feel that strongly, we can make it extra credit. Enough of them would jump at the chance, I'm sure."

She glowered at him. "I smell an ulterior motive. What's in it for you?"

He steepled his fingers. "There may or may not be a tithe I owe to the management of said carnival."

She pressed her palm to her forehead, sighing. "We _cannot_ sacrifice any of the students to satisfy a faerie tithe. Honestly, Jareth."

"Have a little more faith in me than _that_, Sarah."

She shook her head. "I can't believe I let my department chair strongarm me into co-teaching a seminar with you." The exact details of that remained irritatingly murky, which made her nearly certain it was some kind of botched wish. She just didn't know whose. And right now, she didn't care. "No, Jareth. I mean it."

His smile took on a decidedly roguish bent.

She sighed again. "What _kind_ of tithe exactly?"

* * *

Sarah peered over her glasses at Jareth. "So let me get this straight. You need three separate people with your 'mark' on them, which comes from a bit of your aura rubbing off on them through extended contact. Which is why I and the rest of the class will do."

"Mmhmm."

"And you need these three people to utter three specific words, one per person."

"Mmhmm."

"In a natural context."

"Mmhmm."

"Without foreknowledge of said words."

"Mmhmm."

"At specific places at this carnival where the management can see."

"Mmhmm."

She blinked slowly at him. "That's ridiculous."

He shrugged.

She shook her head. "I mean, really, who sets up a tithe like that?"

He fanned his fingers into his palm with an elegant flourish. "Someone who enjoys my machinations, I imagine."

She snorted. "And what happens if you don't manage to pay the tithe?"

His face darkened. "I'd rather not discuss it."

Her brows knit together as she observed him. He _did _seem distressed, and though he was a pain in the ass, he was a pain in the ass who had kept her life interesting for the last six months. "Alright, I'll help you out on this. But you _owe_ me."

"Anything in my power to give." There was no mistaking the intent behind those words.

She blinked hard, then shook herself. "Business first, Professor Casanova. Let's sort this tithe out."

"As you wish, Professor Just Friends."

"Stop that."

His smile went fully rogue in response.

"And stop _that_, too."

* * *

Sarah surveyed the thirteen students who had met her and Jareth at the carnival's entrance, very much interested (as Jareth had predicted) in last-minute extra credit opportunities. "Alright, everyone: you know the assignment. Brief recap: Use the concrete details of this setting to generate impromptu micro-fiction pieces. Each piece you generate before midnight in the presence of Professor Aran and myself is worth up to three percentage points of your total grade. We'll be wandering, so be on your toes."

"Up to three points?" asked one student.

"Depending on how much we like your piece," replied Jareth. "Minimum half a point, though."

"_Subjective grading," _muttered another student.

"That it is," agreed Jareth amiably. "Now, off you go."

Sarah stood next to Jareth as they watched the students scatter, a half-smile twisting her lips. "I admit, one of the great pleasures of teaching with you is your complete impenetrability to undergraduate whining."

"I have many skills."

"I'm sure."

He crooked his elbow out to her. "Shall we, Professor Williams?"

She slipped her arm in. "Let's, Professor Aran."

They strode through the entrance. Sarah utterly failed to notice the carny staring at them with disturbingly golden eyes and a build a touch too angular for a human. Jareth quite simply didn't care.

* * *

Jareth paused in front of a gaming stand manned by a lean carny with a gimlet eye.

Sarah looked from Jareth to the carny and back.

The corner of Jareth's mouth flicked up. "Do you hear that?"

Sarah blinked. "Hear what? This has to be the only stand so far that doesn't have that semi-creepy jack-in-the-box-gonna-getcha soundtrack playing."

"Mmm. Such an interesting tune, don't you think? Not its harmony, but its..." His voice trailed off expectantly into the silence.

Sarah squinted an eye at him. "Melody?"

Jareth's smile flashed like lightning. "Indeed."

The carny's eyes lit with a golden glow. "Counted." His voice was strangely layered, as if multiple people spoke simultaneously. "But that's painfully close to overt priming. Tread carefully."

Jareth's bow managed to be almost painfully taunting.

Sarah leaned into Jareth and whispered, "_I know I'm on your team and all,_ _but_ _I'm kind of agreed on that. That was a complete stretch of natural context._"

"_All's fair in love and tithe payments,_" he murmured back.

The carny's lips twitched noticeably as he turned away from them.

* * *

"Try the hot dogs," said Jareth. "They're somewhat...jolting."

The student who had been warily eyeing the rather dodgy hot dog display jumped. She clearly hadn't heard Sarah and Jareth approach, and yelped a heartfelt "_Shit!_"

"Probably not quite _that_ bad," said Sarah, trying to keep a neutral face.

"Gah, I know - that wasn't - I mean - the hot dogs _look_, but - jolting, and - oh, hell. Never mind."

"So," Jareth said with a telltale twitch of his lips, "what do you have for us?"

"Uh," the girl hedged as her eyes scrambled over the scene in front of her, "so what no one knew was that the hot dogs of this particular stand were sentient..."

Sarah arched an eyebrow.

"...aaaaand they were damned tired of being held hostage under glass, especially since they tasted pretty wretched anyway."

Sarah raised the other eyebrow.

"So, they staged a coup..."

"_I think I know where this is going_," Sarah whispered to Jareth.

"And as I was watching this take place, I could honestly say that _the hot dogs were revolting_, in both senses," the student finished proudly.

"Yup," said Sarah. "Points for syntactic ambiguity on revolting, though."

Jareth smiled like a shark. "Full marks from my perspective."

Sarah shrugged. "If you like."

"Booyah!" The girl zoomed off to crow her success to her classmates.

Jareth turned sharply and fixed his gaze on a young girl just behind them who had been watching the exchange. "Well?"

The girl rolled her decidedly golden eyes before intoning "_counted_" in a multi-faceted voice.

Jareth's smile was smug as all hell when he offered his elbow to Sarah.

* * *

"Oh man, my ass is _draggin_'...and it's almost midnight, too. Where are the professors, anyway?" The student shook his head, muttering, "Just because they're tenured, they think they can treat us however they like-"

Sarah and Jareth cleared their throats simultaneously, causing the student's head to whip nearly 180 degrees.

He stared at them dumbstruck, clearly expecting impending doom.

Jareth's toothsome expression did little to reassure him.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"I...I, uh,...didn't _mean_ that-"

"Oh, you didn't?" Sarah's expression had taken on a wry cast. "So what _did_ you mean?"

"I...you see, it's late and...I hadn't...but..well, _shit_!"

"I'm fairly sure you didn't mean _that_." Jareth's voice curved sinuously across skin, slick with suggestion.

The student gulped audibly and stared at Jareth.

"_Oh, honestly, stop it_," Sarah whispered to Jareth. "_Isn't enough that half the class already has a crush on you?_"

"_Only half?_" Jareth whispered back. "_Tsk_."

Sarah sighed and snapped her fingers in front of the student's glazed eyes. "Enough. Have you got something for us or not?"

He blinked hard, then blurted, "Plucky!"

Sarah blinked back. "Come again?"

"Plucky Comic Relief." The student licked his lips. "That's me. Right now. From tvtropes, like Professor Aran told us about. I am the Plucky Comic Relief."

Sarah looked at Jareth.

Jareth smiled. "Full marks."

Sarah shrugged. "Agreed."

The student grinned, executed a gleeful fist pump, and left.

"There," said Jareth, "that's the last one."

The dog accompanying the barker for the funhouse blinked its golden eyes slowly. "I'm fairly sure that wasn't the noun usage."

Jareth smiled wide, singularly unperturbed. "You only specified the syllables be uttered, not the linguistic context or category. Therefore, I submit that 'draggin' and 'dragon' are interchangeable for these purposes."

There was another slow blink and a peculiar expression, as though the dog were conferring with several other interested parties. "Very well - agreed."

"And the terms of the tithe?"

"Satisfied. Until next time, then."

"Indeed. See you in six months."

Sarah eyed Jareth. "Six months? Awfully short for a tithe. And coincidental timing with respect to our academic association."

"Isn't it just?" He extended his elbow to her. "Fancy that."


	6. Roundabout

**Roundabout**

_Sarah receives some very good advice on how to deal with a painful first conference presentation. Written for a challenge involving a pier, with bonus points for Sarah in a red dress._

* * *

Sarah sat at the edge of the pier outside the conference banquet venue, doing her damnedest to collapse into herself and disappear. _God, that was unbelievably awful. _She dragged a bare foot against the water's surface. _Maybe I'm just not cut out for this. I'm just...wrong and stupid and-_

A very nice male foot, quite pale in the moonlight, suddenly dragged at the water next to hers. She didn't even have to look up to know whose it was, though she'd never seen Jareth sans boots. His presence was palpable, and nearly as she remembered it from seven years ago - glittering and slantwise and encompassing, as if he infiltrated the air itself. Unforgettable, certainly.

There was something else there, though. _Interest_, she realized. But not all sharp edges this time. Something softer, more...genuinely friendly.

She heaved a breath, letting his scent curl against her nostrils. Memories exploded hard, carrying a rush of pure teenage angst. _Well, they do say olfactory triggers are the strongest. _"I didn't call you."

"Oh, you didn't? Pity."

"I thought you were bound by my call."

"A pleasant fiction, love. But it's true that I've taken an interest, and you need me."

"Do I?"

"Either that, or you're doing a remarkably fine impression of a nigh-suicidal _artiste_. Either way, I'm taking Faerie godwatcher prerogrative."

She huffed a surprised breath. "Is that similar to fairy godmother prerogative?"

"Just so."

"Hmmph."

"So?" he prompted, tapping his foot against hers and sending a nicely pleasant tingle up her leg.

She hunched further into herself, remembering the previous few hours with painful clarity.

"Come now, it can't have been as bad as all that."

"Were you there?"

"Not as such."

"Then you don't know."

"Enlighten me. Did you commit murder? Did you co-opt a primordial power that corrupted you beyond reckoning? Did _you_ destroy the Universe when no one was looking?" Self-mockery rang in his voice.

She heard it and looked up at him, eyes wide and eyebrows up near her hairline. "Uh, no." She swallowed, trying to keep him in line of sight. "You have?"

"Got your attention now, haven't I? It's all about perspective."

Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't answer the question."

"And there's the steel in the backbone! But we're not here to talk about me."

"Uh huh." She made a mental note to check in with the goblin crew about any universe destruction she should know about.

There was another gentle tap of his foot against hers. "So? What happened?"

A fine foot it was, too. Attached to a fine ankle and a fine- _Stop it_. "Academic disaster."

"Mmm. How so?"

She put her head in her hands. "Let's start with the dress."

She felt his slow appraisal like a caress, his eyes lingering over the curves outlined in vibrant, sensuous red, flowing along the sweep of fabric over the length of her hips and legs. "Seems a fine dress to me." There was a brazenly appreciative purr in his tone.

It made her smile just a little. "But it was horribly out of place. All those black pants and sensible button up shirts, and here I waltz in looking like a trollop with my do-me red maxi dress and high heels. It was painfully clear I didn't belong in that conference room. That I wasn't _serious_. God, why didn't I think to _ask_ about appropriate conference presentation attire?"

His lips quirked. "So you stood out sartorially. I know the feeling."

She waved a hand, getting into the groove of her rant. "But _that_ would have been manageable if I hadn't totally bombed the presentation itself."

His lips quirked again. "Forget your lines?"

Her smile was sour. "No. They were just the wrong ones."

"Why was that?"

"My _advisor_," she stained the word with bitterness, "neglected to advise me of the opposing viewpoint to the theoretical framework I based my work on."

"Mmm."

"An opposing viewpoint with a rabid fanaticism."

"Mmm."

"Whose progenitor is part of the department hosting this conference."

"Mmmmmm."

"And who was sitting in the front row of my presentation, waiting to pounce on me and tear me to shreds during the question session."

"Ah. And did said progenitor?"

"He did. For all of the question session. And then after, since I was the last presentation in the afternoon session. The _entire_ time we were walking to the conference banquet. And then during the banquet, surrounded by all his academic progeny, who laughed at me for being so hopelessly ignorant and ill-suited for academia. I only just escaped out here." She hunched into herself again.

His foot skimmed the water next to hers, generating a deliberate splash. "My opinion? He sounds like a self-important arse. I deal with them all the time. Also, I _am _one, on occasion."

She choked on a laugh.

"And he's clearly frightened of you."

She looked up. "What?"

"He wouldn't have bothered to slap you down so thoroughly otherwise. When something is worthless, it's beneath your notice. You give no attention and less effort to it." He traced a circle in the water with his toe. "In contrast, when something has the potential to threaten you, you attempt to neutralize it while you can. If it's young and impressionable, destruction will do. I prefer persuasion myself, but then, I'm only _occasionally _a self-important arse."

She stared at him, blinking rapidly. "So what? He's afraid I'm going to topple his ivory tower?"

"Indeed. Because you're going to."

She inhaled abruptly, afraid to seize on that thread of hope. "How do you know? What if my ideas are terrible?"

He shrugged. "The initial ones probably are. Or at least, very unpolished. But you'll refine them, or find others. And he knows that. And people will listen to you. And he knows that, too."

"You seem to know a lot about academia."

He smiled wryly. "I know about the power of ideas and the people who trade in them. Ask me sometime how the Labyrinth got itself a king." He tapped his elbow against hers. "In the meantime, I say you sashay back into that banquet - yes, _sashay. _Lower your eyebrows. Maxi dresses are meant for unapologetically sashaying."

"And you know this how?"

"Older and wiser, love. Trust me. As I was saying, you sashay back in there, smile enigmatically at Professor Self-Importance, and go start a nice conversation with several someone elses. Note that these someone elses will be only too pleased to have the attention of the gorgeous girl in red."

She smiled, caught up in the image he painted. "And I repeat: You know this how?"

"And I repeat: Older and wiser. Also, I have eyes."

A flush of pleasure burned in her cheeks.

He stood up, extending his hand. Like his feet, it was bare to the eye, showcasing the elegantly tapered fingers.

_Musician fingers, _she mused, _fingers meant for stroking beauty out of an instrument-_

She flushed again as their fingers connected, and she clamped down hard on a very particular thought about what exactly counted as an instrument. _A very fine hand, indeed. "_You're pretty good at this Faerie godwatcher thing, you know."

"Glad to hear it. Proper gratitude is a wonderful thing - leads to more regular visiting Underground. The eyeball lichen miss you terribly, of course." His smile glittered. "And others."

Her eyes widened. "I-"

He held up a hand. "You've been busy. I understand. But do keep the rest of us in mind, hmmm? Your goblin crew, as you so endearingly refer to them, shouldn't get to have all the fun." His smile flashed again, equal parts amusement and silky anticipation. "Now, sashay forth, conquer, and come tell us all about it later."

He faded away a bit at a time, until only the smile remained, floating Cheshire-Cat-like next to her. "Until then, love." Then the smile was gone, too.


	7. Principia Mathemagica

**Principia Mathemagica**

_Sarah and Jareth investigate the scientific principles of what-if magic._

* * *

I squinted at the variables on the whiteboard, drumming my fingers against my wrist as I stood next to Jareth. "You know, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if you'd done things differently in the Escher room."

"Oh?"

"It really was _quite _the tactical change. Up to then, you were all fearsome and demanding."

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Was I? Devastatingly attractive too, I trust."

I smiled as I crossed out part of an equation and tried a geometric summation instead of an arithmetic one. "That too. But definitely manipulative. In retrospect, it seems far more likely you'd try a combination bribe-seduction rather than an offer to bypass all magical shenanigans and have me become your apprentice."

He shrugged, tilting his head in thought as he rubbed out a constant multiplier. "I learn from my mistakes. After the ballroom fiasco and the utter trouncing of my castle defenses, it seemed much more the thing."

"I admit, it took me by such complete surprise, I actually listened to you."

"Which was the point." He scribbled something that looked like a Beta distribution below my summation on the whiteboard. "Just imagine where we'd be if I'd continued along the most likely path."

I laughed softly. "I'd have refused any blatant persuasion attempts in pursuit of my noble quest and sent you packing. I can't imagine I would have ever seen you again after that." I paused, then replaced a variable in my summation with one in his Beta distribution. "And a damned pity that would have been."

He'd moved just behind me to consider our joint effort. "Mmmm? Do tell." His voice rolled into my ear with one of his more suggestive purrs.

I elbowed him gently. "You're absolutely insufferable, you know." I stared at the equation's denominator. Something about it was still off. "I would have missed out on all this. Being world-renowned professors of applied physics together, even if you only agreed to it after that terrible Faerie exile business. Discovering how Faerie magic translates to earthly physical laws." I grinned. "And how it can then break those laws with impunity in exactly the ways we want." I brushed my fingers against his as we both scrutinized the symbols in front of us that defined exactly what a possible world would look like. "The science of magic, Jareth. Taking this world by storm one brilliant discovery at a time. With you." Aha, there it was. I scrubbed out an integral's subscript and replaced it with the variable from Jareth's Beta distribution.

His hands rested on my arms as he considered my update. I loved that his touch could still send shivers through me after all these years. Almost as much as I loved that moment when we finished building something insanely impossible and absolutely beautiful together.

He inhaled sharply and leaned in so that his face was next to mine, looking at the equation. "I think we've done it. You bloody brilliant woman."

I grinned like a fiend and kissed him. "Bloody brilliant man. Wanna try it out?"

"Always. To the lab, then?"

"Do let's."

...

To be fair, the machine we'd built in the lab looked less like a scientific instrument than an espresso machine crossed with a nanorobot fabrication device that had far too much influence from an artist under the influence of LSD. It's true that the deep purple glitter wings that spread above it may not have been _strictly _necessary, but given everything else that was, they seemed harmless enough and blended right in with the rest of it.

Most first-time visitors to the lab were, shall we say, a bit taken aback. But people had learned to trust us. Producing world-changing discoveries on a semi-regular basis cuts you a lot of slack. And heaven knows the University would have done anything to keep us happy by this point. An eccentric machine, whatever its electrical costs (which were rather gargantuan - Faerie magic demands quite a bit of energy to get started in this world)...well, if that would keep us here, the world paying attention, and the alumni blithely contributing, so be it.

That was just peachy for me and Jareth.

Jareth sat down at the terminal, which bore more than a passing resemblance to an Escher drawing. I watched his fingers dexterously moving over its surface as he used it to update the program. After a bit, he stretched back and used a finger to push his glasses up. "That's it, then. Doublecheck it for me?"

"Mmhmm." I leaned my chin over his shoulder as I looked beneath the dark reflective surface of the terminal. I could see the golden lines of code shimmering there, bursting with promise. "Looks perfect." I kissed the side of his cheek. "Just like you."

He turned to kiss me back on the lips. "Just like _you_, brilliant woman."

We both turned then to watch the machine churn and spit and writhe its way through the surprisingly flexible fabric of space-time. In the end, a perfectly formed crystal rolled out the bottom.

I picked it up and held it in my hand, murmuring, "And if you turn it this way, and look into it…"

The next few minutes were illuminating, to say the least.

...

I couldn't stop looking at the images playing out inside the crystal. "_That's_ what could have happened?"

He blinked very slowly, his eyes somewhat unfocused. "I think that's what _did _happen."

I raised an eyebrow.

"The first time," he amended. "My memories are still rather fragmented. And you can see this went on more than once - look at those edges. The whole thing's about to bifurcate."

I looked again at the tiny goblin king image doing a very respectable bribe-seduction attempt on a tiny teenage me hellbent on her quest, surrounded by a rainbow horizon of possibility. "How many times did it...did you…"

He looked at the fractal pictures splaying forth and closed his eyes briefly. "I think...thirteen."

I blinked. "Thirteen?"

"Thirteenth time's the charm, I suppose." He peered into the what-if depths and cringed. "Some of them were rather...inept. How embarrassing. Don't look at number nine."

I had to look, of course. I had to look at all of them. "This last time was the only one that got you exiled, though. The only one that robbed you of your memories."

"The only one where I got you."

"True."

He flashed that jaunty grin of his. "It was worth it."

I caressed the side of his face. "I just adore you, you know. I adore _us_. I'm not sorry for any of it. I wouldn't change any of it."

"I know. I wouldn't either."

A few minutes passed in companionable silence as we watched twelve different failed attempts to tempt me resolve themselves and then the one that had finally worked. The only one I remembered.

I leaned my head against his shoulder. "So what shall we do with this new bit of magical science? Entertainment? Therapy? Those seem like the natural options for seeing what-ifs in your past that you can't change."

He stroked a finger along my neck. "Quite sensible. Shall I write the memo to the Office of Research Technology Transfer this time?"

"It _is _your turn, sweetheart."

He sighed in mock suffering. "As long as you'll be the one to coordinate the press release. I can't stand that fellow who does PR for the School of Physical Sciences. Can't follow a train of logic to save his life."

I laughed softly. "That's why you have to tell things to people like him in the form of stories. They understand stories." I winked at him. "You used to be so good at telling stories."

He snorted. "In a previous life, apparently. Now I'll leave it to you, my love."

"Fair enough."


	8. A Modest Proposal

**A Modest Proposal**

_Sarah entertains a proposal following a very ancient tradition. Written for a labyfic livejournal prompt about the Underground as the Underworld, Greek mythology style._

* * *

The pomegranate seeds glistened in a thoroughly unholy fashion. They might as well have put up a flashing sign saying "Delicious Danger Ahead (But We Promise You'll Like It)".

I glanced around the department breakroom. I'd woken up earlier face-planted into my laptop in a very empty office. This wasn't a particularly uncommon occurrence lately with my qualifying paper deadline looming like the proverbial sword of Damocles.

The breakroom usually had leftover goodies for starving graduate students - cookies, sandwiches, the occasional veggie and cheese plate. Glistening Pomegranate Seeds of Temptacious Danger were, however, new.

I swore I heard a giggle of a distinctly goblin nature. You learn to recognize that kind of thing after awhile.

I peered at the bowl containing the seeds. There were twelve. I sighed. I didn't get a minor in Greco-Roman mythology for nothing.

But the glamour on these puppies was quite the masterwork. Goblins just didn't whip up that kind of thing on a whim. They'd clearly had help.

And I bet said help would be watching how this little gambit unfolded.

I sat down in a chair near the bowl, and spoke to the empty air. "Make me an offer."

Jareth appeared across from me in all his delectable Faerie glory, his finger tracing the edge of the bowl in an unabashedly suggestive way. "I thought I had."

I arched an eyebrow at his finger. "I think this falls under the heading of Entrapment rather than Offer."

He smiled. "Only if one party is unaware of the implications."

I tried to suppress my own half-smile. "You know I have a doctorate to finish. That hasn't changed."

He nodded amiably, still trailing his finger around the rim of the bowl.

I pressed my own finger to my temple, trying to ward off the incipient headache. "I can't just go disappearing for months at a time. My advisor would notice." I paused. "Well, I think she would. After a few weeks. But that's completely beside the point. I have things I need to do here."

The anguish that slashed through his features took my breath away. If it was a carefully constructed manipulation - which it very well might have been - it was a damned good one. Damn his patrician features.

I sighed and reached out to touch his hand. "I'll be home soon, I promise."

He gave a pointed glance to the breakroom clock cheerfully blinking 1:00am and shook his head. "Not good enough. We miss you."

"We?"

"We. First person plural. Also, royal 'we'."

"Mmhmm." Cogs were a-whirring in my head. "And would _we_ consider an alternative carving of time?"

He tilted his head. "Make me an offer."

"Twelve seeds. Twenty four hours in a day."

"Twenty six, Labyrinth-wise."

"Yes, but twenty four makes the math easier. So we worry about the conversion to Labyrinth-time later." I picked up a seed and held it. "As I was saying, twelve seeds, twenty four hours in a day."

His eyes practically glowed. "Mmhmm."

I popped the seed into my mouth. It tasted just as sinfully good as advertised. Then I looked at him. "Your turn."

"What?"

"Your turn."

"What were you saying about entrapment?"

"What were you saying about relevant parties knowing the implications?"

"I knew there was more than one reason I liked you."

"Mmhmm." I raised my eyebrows expectantly and pushed the bowl towards him.

He popped one into his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.

We split eight of them that way before we stopped.

He tapped his foot to mine. "My place or yours tonight?"

"Yours. I'd like to cash my eight earth hours into slightly more sleep time. We can come back earthside for lattes in the morning. I know this great little place."

"Done and done."


	9. Double or Nothing

**Double Or Nothing**

_Sarah deals with an unexpected side effect of an applied physics experiment. Written for the labyfic livejournal challenge "Two Jareths"._

* * *

I walked into my office, froze, and attempted to clamp my jaw shut as I slid ungracefully into my chair. "Why are there two of you?"

"You don't want to know how?" said the Jareth lounging in the bean bag with his ankles crossed and a curious amount of subtle glitter embedded in his clothes.

I shook my head. "Priorities. Begin with why. And shut the door, please."

The other Jareth, _my _Jareth, dressed in his typical impeccably tailored Huntsman suit and John Lobb Chapels, gently closed the door before taking a seat by my desk. "I know it's a bit unexpected, Sarah."

I held up a hand. "Skip the niceties, and get to the why."

They glanced at each other. That just _couldn't _be good.

"Short version?" asked glitter-Jareth.

My Jareth gave one of those elegant little shrugs he was known for in the Applied Physics department.

I leveled the librarian glare I was known for at both of them. "Well?"

"This is apparently one of the possible outcomes when you hop through streams of the multiverse, however improbable it might be," said my Jareth.

I covered my face in my hands as very dim memories began surfacing. "I thought the probability was infinitesimal for this kind of thing."

My Jareth sighed. "Infinitesimal is, alas, not the same as zero."

Glitter-Jareth snorted. "Apparently."

"Where did you find him?" I asked my Jareth.

"You know, I'm sitting right here," said glitter-Jareth. "It's rather rude to talk about me like I'm not."

I blew out a slow breath that only mostly sounded like a sigh. "Sorry. Where do you come from?"

He steepled his fingers. "From what I understand of my doppelgänger here, the other side of some sort of branch point."

I closed my eyes briefly. "And what is the universe like there?"

Something about my long-suffering demeanor caused glitter-Jareth to crack a grin. "Not nearly so fun as this one. You're much more interesting here, for instance."

I waved aside the flattery. I'd had plenty of practice from the early days of partnership with my Jareth. "Mmhmm. Can you be more precise?"

"Well, for one, we're not exactly on speaking terms and I'm fairly sure you're not chairing an Applied Physics department at a major university in my universe."

"Hmmph. Anything else?"

Glitter-Jareth shrugged. "My fashion sense hasn't been influenced by academia over there." He cast a speculative glance at my Jareth. "Perhaps I should start letting it. Those shoes are excellent."

My Jareth smiled.

I closed my eyes again briefly. "Right. Anything else?"

"Nothing significant that we've noticed yet," said my Jareth. "Though I suspect his universe doesn't have some of our patented inventions, which means said universe lacks some of the finer things in early quantum computing and teleportation."

I massaged my temples with two fingers. "Okay then. Practical matters: Are there any impending catastrophic consequences from this?"

"Depends on your definition of catastrophic," said glitter-Jareth.

My Jareth gave him a disapproving look. "Not that we've been able to detect yet, no. But the way back for him is closed and he's cut off from the Labyrinth in our universe since it recognizes only me as its rightful ruler."

I blinked. "He has to stay here?"

"Until we discover another way or hit the probability lottery jackpot again," said my Jareth.

I snorted softly. "Some jackpot."

Glitter-Jareth arched an eyebrow. "I'm not particularly thrilled about it either."

I blew out a breath. "Alright, so let me summarize: There's a universe out there missing its Jareth, our universe has two for the foreseeable future, and we just have to figure out a way to pass this all off as perfectly normal?"

Both of them nodded.

Wheels began to churn in my head. "Okay then." I turned to glitter-Jareth. "Do you still have the ability to manipulate Faerie magic here?"

Glitter-Jareth's eyes widened for a moment.

I leveled another librarian glare. "What?"

He shook his head. "You're just so...adaptable here. So practical. I really do enjoy the you here more and more."

I flipped him a half-smile. "Admiration duly noted, and you'll have to tell me about your universe's Sarah sometime. But about the Faerie magic?"

He nodded and waved a hand so that a crystal winked in and out of existence.

"Good then. Here's my plan, and feel free to chime in with adjustments and modifications: You're Jareth's twin brother, you're also an Applied Physics researcher, and you'll be spending a sabbatical year with us here."

Glitter-Jareth tilted his head. "Shouldn't I know something about applied physics?"

My Jareth smiled. "My dear fellow, what exactly do you think manipulating Faerie magic is?"

Glitter-Jareth looked intrigued. "Interesting point."

"You'll have to have a crash course on the current formalisms, of course," continued my Jareth. "But that should be easy enough, given that you had an interest in human science and philosophy before encountering teenage Sarah."

Glitter-Jareth nodded. "True."

"Good," I said. "So it's settled. Now, what shall we call you?"

Glitter-Jareth blinked. "Oh hell, I suppose he has dibs on the name in your universe."

"You could always go with a name you wished you had," my Jareth said pointedly.

Glitter-Jareth looked at him.

"One you perhaps jotted down in your very secret journal when you were a lad?" prompted my Jareth.

Glitter-Jareth's lips quirked. "Mmmm, I suppose that would do."

My Jareth smiled. "I thought so. Sarah, meet Cellin."

I smiled and extended my hand. "Charmed, Cellin. Looking forward to working with you."

"Likewise," he said. "And my friends call me Cel."

I waited a beat. "Dare I ask the name origins?"

They both smiled that same damned smile at me.

Cel winked a crystal into existence and began rolling it around his hand. "Let's just say I was fond of Tolkien's universe, and I had bardic aspirations."

"I see." I made a mental note to look up the name later. "Well, we best get you situated. There's an office for visiting faculty right near Jareth's, and thank god it's the beginning of the semester. No one will blink an eye at you taking the office. Let's go check it out, shall we?"

"Do let's," said Cel, as he stood to offer me his elbow.

I gave it a pointed glance. "There are rules for workplace behavior we should discuss, even if you're ostensibly my brother-in-law."

He froze for a moment. "Brother-in-law?"

I glanced at Jareth, who looked positively mischievous. "You neglected to mention we're married?"

"It may have slipped my mind in all the excitement," replied Jareth.

I caught Cel's wretchedly envious look and closed my eyes briefly, muttering, "Well, at least you've got the fraternal teasing started. Quite credible."

"And you were just saying only last night that things were a little too quiet this semester," said Jareth.

"Me and my big mouth." I took one more second to breathe before moving forward. "Alright, you two, let's go."

"My pleasure," they both said at the same time.

_Heaven help us all._ Though I deeply suspected Heaven had little to do with it.

* * *

_**Author's note: Cellin purportedly means Flowing Music in Sindarin._


End file.
